The Art of War
by Lady Mage
Summary: HGFW. Hermione mistakenly enters into a prank war with Fred and George in her fifth year. The twins prepare for the worst, over-and-under-analyzing her every move. Humor ensues as Hermione is never quite sure why the twins are wearing... gas masks?
1. Story Information

**The Art of War**

_**By Lady Mage**_

**Summary. **_HGFW. Hermione mistakenly enters into a prank war with Fred and George in her fifth year. The twins prepare for the worst, over-and-under-analyzing her every move. Humor ensues as Hermione is never quite sure why the twins are wearing... gas masks?  
_

**Disclaimers. **I do not own any of the characters or plots put forward in the original Harry Potter books by the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I also do not own Sun Tzu's Art of War which I will be including on a regular basis within the text. I am just attempting to put something humorous together on a lark.

**Rating. **Will probably stay T just in case, though there is nothing _too_ objectionable (or so I would like to think)

**Updates. **Will come as often as I can send them. Chapters will most likely not exceed 2,000 words but will be updated most likely twice a week.

That said, I hope all of you enjoy the story and choose to clink the link to the first chapter, in which Hermione officially chooses to declare war…


	2. Pondering or not

**The Art of War**

**_By Lady Mage_**

_War is_

_A grave matter of state_

_It is a place_

_Of life and death,_

_A road_

_To Survival and extinction,_

_A matter_

_To be pondered carefully._

_…Sun Tzu…_

* * *

"Where are my knickers?" wondered Hermione Granger on a particularly early morning in her fifth year. She had been looking for them for nearly an hour but had not been able to find them in the near dark of the pre-dawn light. Even as the sun rose, she found herself wondering how _all _her knickers could have gone mysteriously missing at the same time. It _was _rather strange, especially since she had gotten her laundry back from the house elves only the day before. She could have sworn-

"Lavender!" she crossed to shake her sleeping friend, "Do you know where my knickers are?"

The other girl rolled in bed but did not budge. "Go away, Parvati," she muttered, thrashing out at Hermione in her sleep, "Don' wanna talk right now!"

Hermione then tried shaking Parvati awake but was met with a similar response. It seemed that no one else thought 6:30 A.M was the right time to get up.

Growling in frustration, she kicked her bedpost and stubbed her toe. Deciding to just go commando for the day, she pulled on a pair of black pants and her Hogwarts vest, tie, and robes. She made her way down to the common room where she was met with the sight of Fred and George Weasley sprawled on the couch with her missing knickers strewn all over the common room.

"Fred and George Weasley!" She shouted, kicking them off the couch. They both hit their heads hard and opened their eyes, wincing.

"What is it now, mum?" they asked in impishly in unison.

Hermione turned nearly purple with rage, and the twin on her left commented on the color. "Reckon that would be a nice color for our new hair dye line?" the twin on her right asked the twin on her left.

"Why, yes, brother, I do believe it would," said the twin on her left to the twin on her right. They began discussing technical details, until all of a sudden the twin on Hermione's right began counting down.

"Five knuts says she blows in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two—"

"You- you- you-" She could barely get her words out, she was seething so much.

"Yes mum?" they asked together again.

"She almost looked like mum there for a moment too," the twin on Hermione's left- George (or was it Fred?)- said.

"Scarily," agreed the twin on the right.

"Almost as if-" the other paused dramatically "- she had been taking _lessons._"

"You think?"

"Oh yes I do think."

"Now that you think of it, I did see them sequestered away this summer…"

"Oh really, brother of mine, I thought they were cleaning the old QH."

The twin on Hermione's right gave the twin on Hermione's left a broad wink and the two began giggling.

Hermione cut in, indignant. "Really, gentlemen," she said, rolling her eyes and frowning, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to ignore a lady when she is standing in front of you!"

"Is that what they call it now-a-days, brother of mine?" the twin on Hermione's left asked the twin on Hermione's right

"I would have called it towering,"

"More like lofting…"

"Lofting? Where did that come from?"

"Gentlemen!" Hermione was loosing her patience. "My knickers, if you please!" she said coldly, scowling at them and holding her hand out.

Instead of handing Hermione her missing knickers, they grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled themselves off the floor, nearly landing her on the floor in the process. She balanced and righted herself and glared at them.

"Thank you for the helping hand," said the twin on her left. The twin on her right kissed her hand after he had used it to pull himself up.

Hermione yanked back her hand. "_Accio Hermione's Knickers."_ She said, and all the knickers in the room flew at her. Only one landed in her outstretched hand, however:: the rest landed on various catches in her robes that hadn't been there earlier. Hermione looked suspiciously at the twin on her left who hastily moved his hand from where it had been on his wand.

"What?" he asked innocently.

Hermione had had enough. "This is war," she said coldly, stepping forward menacingly and banging their heads together.

The twin on the left- George?- looked at the twin on the right. "You think she even knows what she is talking about Gred?"

'Gred' winked at his brother, shrugging. "Hey, if she wants to die…"

"Be mortified before the whole world-"

"Be the victim of pranks to which this will be seen as nothing at all-"

"Never be seen in polite society-"

"Disappear forever at the ripe old age of sixteen-"

They both looked at each other and smirked, "-Then game on." They reached out their hands and shook her right and left hands at the same time, before disappearing out of the portrait hole.

Hermione was left blinking in the bright morning sunlight, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

_War is a matter to be pondered carefully._

Oops.

* * *


	3. When Far, Appear Near

**The Art of War**

**_By Lady Mage_**

**Chapter Two: When Far, Appear Near**

_The Way of War is_

_A Way of Deception._

_When far, _

_Appear Near._

…_Sun Tzu…_

Knickers on, Hermione walked down to breakfast. Fred and George were whispering at one end of the table. They had taken her usual spot, blast them, and were looking between the Slytherins and Hermione as if trying to figure out who to prank first.

_For such brilliant pranksters, they sure are obvious_, she thought as she blithely helped herself to a piece of toast, careful not to look suspicious.

The tables were fairly empty at this time of the morning, so Hermione was fairly surprised when Padma Patil came rocketing over to where she was sitting, begging to have a word.

"What do you need?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"Well good morning to you too, Hermione. How was your sleep? I trust everything is well with you? Would you like some toast?" Padma responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Listen, I'm trying to get back at Fred and George and need to leave before they do, or at least look like I will. What do you need?"

"Nothing really, I guess…"

"What is it, Padma?"

"A Gryffindor pranked the fifth year Ravenclaw girls this morning, and I was wondering if you knew who they were."

"Oh yes, I do," Hermione practically growled, doing her best not to look at the twins and utterly failing. The twins looked at her glares with interest and one of them- Fred?- pulled out a notepad and began taking notes, probably on her facial expression or prank ideas.

"Who was it?"

"Right behind you at five o' clock. Don't. Turn. Around."

"Why not?"

"They'll see we're talking about them and that is the last thing I need at the moment."

"Why?"

"I declared war on them this morning." Hermione's half growl turned into a sweet voice at the last moment and her statement came out strangled.

"War?" Padma, asked curious.

"Yes, a prank war."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Isn't that a tad bit stupid?" Padma asked, doubtful.

Hermione smirked. "I'm not doing anything today, just to mess with their heads. Tomorrow the real fun begins."

"Is that why I can't look at them? They'll get suspicious?"

"Yes," Hermione gritted out. The twins were looking their way again and Hermione was trying not to notice the attention she was receiving.

"That explains _so _much," Padma said sarcastically, "Please Hermione…"

"Please don't," Hermione begged Padma, "You want revenge, don't you? If you help me, I can help you get it!"

"Hermione…"

"Please Padma!"

"Oh fine."

"Thanks." Hermione shook Padma's hand.

"What do you want me to do?" Padma asked her new prank boss.

Hermione thought for a moment. How could she best mess with Fred and George's heads? Knowing them, they probably thought that they would be the victims of a colossal prank immediately. No, it was best not to do anything of the sort. Making them think a prank had been pulled when it really hadn't would be a prank in and of itself.

"Huh?" Padma asked, getting impatient.

"Oh, sorry. I don't need you to do anything at the moment, except walk slowly away with me talking about how you desperately need help in potions and don't want to tell a fellow Ravenclaw."

"Alright."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Here we go…" the two stood up and began to walk to the doors of the Great Hall, "But Padma, I don't see why you couldn't ask a fellow Ravenclaw for help with your assignment. We aren't even in the same class, for pity's sake!"

"Please, Hermione?" Padma played along as they approached where the twins were sitting.

"Not that I'm not flattered, but I don't see why…"

* * *

The twins looked up from plotting pranks to pull on Hermione and the Slytherins and watched as said object of their pranks (Hermione, not the entire Slytherin table, thank Merlin) walked past, talking with Padma Patil.

"Not that I'm not flattered, but I don't see why you'd pick someone who isn't even in your class to help. Potions isn't even my best subject." Hermione argued, not once glancing at where Fred was taking notes on her behavior.

Fred frowned. How could she just ignore them like that when they were engaged in active warfare?

"I need you though, Hermione!" pleaded Padma Patil.

"Fine." Hermione said grudgingly, before sneezing.

"Bless you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, rubbing her nose as she reached the door, "I smell something funny in the air."

The two exited the great hall. Almost immediately after they left, Fred burst into laughter. "Guess she must have picked up on the sneezing powder we put near where she usually sits, huh?"

"Hmph," said George, "Hermione and Padma are up to something. I could swear that that conversation we just heard was a front and the real subject matter was discussed before they stood up."

Fred nodded his head. "You do have a point, brother of mine. But they weren't looking at us the entire time. The sneezing powder was obviously getting to Hermione because she looked rather constipated. What if Padma really _does_ want help with Potions?"

George tapped his chin with his fork. "It's possible," he said, deep in thought, "that the first prank is one to make our minds go around in circles."

"Posh," Fred said, carefully folding up a cinnamon bun into his napkin to eat during History of Magic, "Our minds are of the sort that rise to the challenge."

"That may be, brother dearest, but we also did prank the Ravenclaw fifth year girls this morning… what if they are sending Padma to request an alliance?"

"Or worse," Fred said, accidentally pounding his fist into his cinnamon bun, eyes opening wide in horror as if a thought of impossible terribleness had occurred to him, "What if Hermione's sneeze was not actually a result of the itching powder? She didn't sneeze until she walked past where we were sitting, and come to think of it, my nose feels strange."

George looked around. "Blast it all, Fred, we put sneezing powder around where she usually sits, but she didn't sit there!"

Fred surveyed his seat with dawning comprehension. "And I suggested that we sit in her spot to annoy her."

"So we have successfully just pranked ourselves with our own product."

"Yep."

"Damn, that was stupid."

"Yep."

"Stop being so smug about it- it was your fault as well!"

"Whatever you say, George, whatever you say."

"Regardless, remember how we've researched different vehicles of releasing toxins into the air?" George asked, pulling the notebook they had written down Hermione's movements in from Fred's hands, "And a sneeze was one of them?"

"You aren't implying-"

"Well…"

"She can't have found out about that!"

"I caught Ginny fishing around our notes a while ago and she could have told Hermione."

"Highly possible too, since we stole her knickers as well."

"Most definitely."

"Damn it all, George! We are having the worst luck imaginable!" Fred ground his cinnamon bun into the table and stomped his foot.

"Ow, that was my foot, Fred!"

"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine. Just don't do it again."

"I won't."

"Good. Now knowing Hermione, she probably wanted to start the morning off with a bang. That's what all good pranksters do, and Hermione wants to be taken seriously. She probably put all her energy into that one potion, and as it is with these sorts of potions turned gases, the effects will probably begin momentarily in five, four, three-" George supplied helpfully.

Fred hastily conjured gas masks and walkie-talkies powered by magic. "There now," he said. "All safe. Roger."

"Roger who?"

"It's radio speak, dum-dum! You can also say 'over' if you like."

"Oh. Over."

"Yes, oh. Over."

"I think saying 'over' is going to get really annoying really fast. Over."

"It will be over when it is over. Over."

"Where do we go from here? Over."

"To class? Over."

"With these on? Over." George asked, incredulous.

"Better to be careful. Over."

"People are going to think we have finally cracked at last. Over." George shook his head.

"Better insane than dead, which we certainly will be if we take them off…" Fred trailed off forgetting to say 'over', not wanting to put into words what they were both thinking. Neither wanted the effects of the potions that could be dispersed using the sneeze method.

"Too right, too right." George agreed sadly, "Ready? Over."

"Yep. Over."

"Alright then, off to class. Over."

"It's out, you dum-dum. This conversation is over. Out."


	4. I'll Show Them Some Spew!

**The Art of War**

_**By Lady Mage**_

**Chapter Three: I'll Show Them Some Spew!**

_When Far, _

_Appear Near_

…_Sun Tzu…_

* * *

That night the whole Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with excited chatter. Why had the Weasley twins worn strange masks with tubes to all of their classes? Why on earth had they not eaten at mealtimes? Everyone was crowded into the common room to hear the scoop. The only Gryffindors not in the common room were Harry and Ron who were Merlin-knows-where. There were even some Hufflepuff fan-girls who had snuck in to find out what was going on.

_Nearly_ everyone in the common room was there hoping for a hint at the twins' strange behavior, that is. One girl had, in a fashion typical to her, been engrossed in her newly updated version of _10,000 Ways to Use the Elphid Rune in Everyday Life_. She had not looked up in three hours, and nobody knew how she could be reading at such a crucial time as this.

The girl, of course, was Hermione Granger. However, this girl had a rather intimate knowledge of the reason the Weasley twins were wearing gas masks. It was, after all, her fault. It couldn't be anything else; she had challenged them to a prank war earlier that morning. She was a little unsure how they ended up with gas masks that looked like they had been used to pieces in _both_ the muggle World Wars, though...

But the twins were crazy. Everyone knew that. They had to be crazy to attempt to take _her_ knickers!

Checking to make sure no one was looking at the dark corner of the room she was sitting in, she stepped up quickly and slid Harry's invisibility cloak on. Before it could so much as whisper over her skin, she utilized the nine thousand one hundred and thirty eighth use of the Elphid rune to create a life-size, breathing doll of herself. The eyes even moved and the fingers turned the pages of the book. She grinned, obscenely proud of herself, and set the doll in the chair she had previously been sitting in. The doll wasn't tremendously lifelike, but it had her bushy hair. Buried beneath a book in the low light, no one would notice at first glance.

Now it was time to find Fred and George. She did her best not to cackle out loud, knowing it would betray her. It was hard though…

Very hard.

* * *

"Why wasn't anyone else affected by the airborne potion, Fred? Over." George asked his brother through his walkie-talkie that night.

"Probably keyed to our magical signatures," Fred replied through his walkie-talkie, "I reckon it's gone now, though." Fred didn't bother saying 'over' and ripped his gas mask off.

"Hmm…" George replied skeptically, "I guess…" He pulled his off as well and theatrically breathed air without aid for the first time in nearly twelve hours. He immediately choked up and groped for his gas mask as his face turned purple. When it was firmly back on his face, he looked incredulously back at Fred. "Why aren't you putting yours back on? The potion is clearly still in effect! Over."

Fred snickered and made no move to return his gas mask to his face. Instead, he banished it back to the museum case it had disappeared from earlier that morning. (Muggle police had been frantically searching for it all day, and wrote its mysterious disappearing act off as a prank which they vowed to find the culprit for if it took them their whole lives. But back to Fred and George.)

"Did you see those huge breaths you were taking, George?" Fred asked his brother, "No wonder you choked up!"

"If you say so, Gred." George reluctantly took off his mask and clenched it in his hand. He did not banish it. No, he wanted to have it handy in case he needed it again.

"I do say so, Forge."

"Hmph."

"Guess we don't need these talkie-walkie things anymore," Fred said, looking down at the tool which had been his constant companion for the day.

"Good." George said, snickering, "I'm sick of conjuring another one for every teacher… I thought McGonagall was about ready to blow a gasket when we offered her one when she couldn't hear what we were saying to each other."

"Good thing there was no Defense today. Umbitch would have had a conniption!"

The two boys laughed, enjoying the picture of a pink toad with a walkie-talkie which was now etching itself into their mind.

"You've got to admit, though, Fred," George said after a while, "That was a pretty good prank."

"What can you say? She's Hermione Granger. She's bloody amazing, that's what."

George cooed at his brother. "Does ickle Fweddie-kins have a cruuuuuuuuuuush?"

"No, of course not!" Fred denied hotly.

George raised an eyebrow.

"She won't try anything else tonight, though," Fred said, returning to their previous topic.

George made no comment at Fred's avoidance of his earlier question. "And you know this how?"

"Hey, she was reading a book in the common room when we came up. There's no way she's going to stop her reading for something as _lowly_ as pranking."

"Oh really, Fred?"

"Yes, really." Fred said, folding his arms defensively across his chest.

"Well," George said, "I, of course, must bow to the wisdom of my three-seconds-older brother." He smirked. "And his superior knowledge, of course."

Fred nodded. "Yes, of course." He elbowed George.

George continued as if he had never been elbowed. "But I will have the laugh if she does something tonight."

"Riiiiighht. Hermione will have the laugh, you dum-dum. You seem to be forgetting that you upset her every bit as much as I did. She's pranking both of us, you nitwit! That is, if she pranks us at all. Which she won't. So let's go to the kitchens and get something to eat. I'm starved."

"You seem to be taking it for granted that I will follow your oh-so-impeccable logic, brother mine." George laughed.

"Of course!"

"Yes, the stomach does speak louder than anything else."

"Said like a true Weasley, my boy," Fred patted George on the back, "Best thing about the kitchens is that Hermione would never go in there. Something about the house elves…"

"Spewing up on her?" George supplied helpfully, hoping that Hermione wasn't listening underneath the door, because if she was, she'd be furious.

"Yes, that's it," Fred agreed, jovially. He obviously hadn't considered the idea that Hermione might be there, listening to them.

"Sounds good. Let's go." George said.

So, having deluded themselves that nothing bad would happen to them, they set off for the kitchen, never noticing the quiet muttering that began in their wake. Most of it was indistinct, but an hour later, when the twins still had not returned, a satisfied feminine cry came from their rooms.

"I'll show them some _spew_!"


	5. Outpranked and Outclassed

**The Art of War**

_**By Lady Mage**_

**Chapter Four: Outpranked and Outclassed**

_Attack_

_Where he is unprepared_

_Appear_

_Where you are _

_Unexpected_

…_Sun Tzu…_

* * *

Fred and George Weasley, pranksters extraordinaire, woke up to find themselves with oddly shaped ears. Thinking nothing of it, they had stumbled down to breakfast, forgetting their wands. Or what they thought was breakfast, anyways, for instead of finding themselves in the Great Hall, they somehow found themselves sucked through the stone floor and into the kitchens below.

George looked at Fred. "This is a strange but good development," he said to his brother, "Here in the kitchens, we can plot in secret, far away from Hermione's spying eye."

Fred agreed, waiting for the usual horde of house elves to descend upon them to offer up all kinds of food imaginable. No munificent elves came forward, however. Instead, a very stern elderly elf approached them with a scowl on his face.

"What is you two scamps doing here? Youse be not Hogwarts elves!" The house elf shook his wooden spoon menacingly at the twins.

"What?" Fred and George said in unison.

"Were you poppin' here for a job?" The house elf asked, his withered hands resting on his gnarled hips.

"N- no…?" Fred answered, sounding oddly squeaky. He turned to look at George, but George was looking stranger by the minute: his ears were elongating, his skin was becoming grey and wrinkled, and he was shrinking fast. When Fred looked down at himself, he saw the same changes were happening to him.

"What's going on?" George asked Fred, now looking very similar to the house elf in front of them. George groped for his wand but it was missing.

The house elf in front of them shook his wooden spoon at them. "Youse are bad house elfs," he told them, "Get out or be taking your clothes off!"

"What?" Fred asked, echoing George's earlier question. Fred didn't have his wand either.

George looked down at himself, over to Fred, and finally to the house elf in front of them. Finally, he came to the only obvious conclusion. "Fred," he said, "I think we've been turned into house elves."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, brother dearest," Fred said wryly, shaking his head—how could he have forgotten his wand?—"But would you care to elaborate why?"

"Hermione must have heard us last night…"

"And this must be her revenge."

"Exactly."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

"You say indeed a lot, George. Did you know that?"

"Indeed." George smirked at Fred.

"Shut up!"

SMACK. The house elf snarled at both of them.

"Ouch, what was that for, you stupid house elf?" Fred yelled, clutching his arm where the house elf had hit him. Who knew a wooden spoon could be such a viable weapon?

The house elf glared. "If youse [here he said what was obviously a bad elvish word but Fred and George didn't know what it really meant] want to work here, youse have to not speak to Binky like so again. Now youse must be stripping."

The twins jaws dropped collectively. "The house elf wants us to strip?" they asked in shocked unison.

Fred elbowed George, winking. "Never thought a house elf would be asking me for a strip tease."

George smirked. "Never really pictured you as a stripper, Fred, but I'm glad you've found something you are passionate about."

"I think you better shut up if you know what's good for you."

"_Binky_," the house elf corrected with a hard glare, "is not asking. Clearly your last masters hated youse so much that he be giving you all the clothes he owns." Binky paused here and attempted to fix a welcoming expression on his face. "At Hogwarts," he continued, "Youse can start over!"

"Um…" said George.

"Thank you," said Fred, feeling as if the house elf's 'kind' gesture should be acknowledged.

"Youse can start over, _clothesless_!" Binky turned on his heel and began berating a young elf. "Not that carrot, you [insert bad elf word here]. That is being for Dumblydore's soup tonight! Don't send it to the young masters table to be wasted!" The sheepish young elf looked appalled at his transgression and began banging his head against a wall.

Fred and George looked on in mild horror. "Fred," George said, "I think we've been outpranked and outclassed on this one."

Fred fingered his shirt before pulling it off to reveal… "My chest!!! It's all house-elfy! How could Hermione do this to me?"

"She did declare a prank war on us, you know. These kind of things happen," George said, attempting to be reasonable, "Sure, it's bad luck, mate—I mean, look at my hideous new knees. But we'll get her back better next time."

"Right," Fred said, looking at George's knees, "I fail to see how you can be so calm about this! My perfect chest is- is RUINED!" Fred paused for a breath, "And your knees do look pretty bad. In fact, they bear an eerie resemblance to Kreacher's…" Fred smirked at George and crossed his now gnarled and wrinkled arms over his house-elfy chest.

George snarled. "I'm never going to tease that house elf again," he muttered darkly, looking sadly at his no-longer-handsome legs.

Fred eyed his chest distastefully, "The clothes are really coming off with regards to pranks after this, George."

George nodded and gulped. Being a house elf wouldn't be that bad, would it?

* * *

Hermione giggled from behind the curtain where she was spying on Hogwarts' newest house elves. The sight of the Weasley twins as house elves seemed oddly fitting revenge for their crack at S.P.E.W. And, plus, it was one hell of a good prank. All it had taken were a few extended contact charms on the boys' beds and clothing, and BOOM! here they were as house elves.

And Binky. Binky was probably the best elf to oversee the twins' work. Binky was very strict, and under his charge the twins would not be having just any regular day off from school. They would be following Peeves around the castle (unseen of course) to clean up after the messes he made. It was a truly fitting punishment for a pair of pranksters.

She left the kitchens unobserved and headed off for her first class: Defense with Umbridge. Hopefully Harry wouldn't land too many detentions with Umbridge today. If only he could keep his mouth shut! But, then again, everyone was tense nowadays with the return of Voldemort and Fudge's disbelief of it.

Hermione felt a tinge of remorse that she was forcing the twins to miss their classes for the day. While the twins should have known what they were getting into when they allowed themselves to enter into a prank war with her, the twins missed enough classed on their own. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. It was their NEWT year, after all. And they needed all the help they could get.

Suddenly, Hermione had a brilliant idea. The moment Umbridge's class was over, she bolted back to Gryffindor Tower. Her next prank would get the twins to study and do their homework, while being vastly annoying to them…

Hermione snickered yet again. She loved being a know-it-all.

* * *

By Lunch, Fred and George were exhausted, and by Dinner they were completely pooped. Following Peeves around, cleaning up his messes, and staying out of sight were proving more difficult than Fred and George ever could have imagined. And whenever the twins entertained the idea of disobeying Binky's orders, the psychotic house elf would pop up, waving his wooden spoon at them.

Peeves, due to the presence of Umbridge at Hogwarts, was being unusually obnoxious. Fred and George had cleaned up at least ten different deposits of dungbombs, repaired all the trophies in the Trophy Room twice, returned Umbridge's kitty china to its place on her office wall (though George wanted to keep it and sell it on the Hogwarts Black Market), and convinced Peeves that pelting McGonagall with exploding rice cakes was not a good idea.

Peeves had, after an hour of argument with Fred and George in an unobserved corner of the Great Hall, gone ahead and pelted McGonagall with exploding oatmeal cakes instead. Like that made that much of a difference. Binky had hauled Peeves off for a lecture and a beating, no doubt with the wooden spoon, though the twins were unsure if a poltergeist could be physically beaten. So, the twins had been left alone in the Great Hall, still invisible to human eyes, not that anyone was there to see them.

However, this soon changed. As dinner approached and the hall began to fill, Fred realized one important fact.

"We're changing back!" He joyfully told his brother. They high-fived each other and did a victory dance, gradually becoming visible to the students sitting down to dinner in the Great Hall.

People stopped eating and stared.

"Why do you reckon they're staring?" George asked Fred.

Fred smirked. "Can only be good things about us and our bodies, right?"

George looked down and the both of them. "I reckon that's pretty close to the truth," he said with a touch of humor, "Fred, we're naked. Completely human and visible to the naked eye—no pun intended—in front of the entire population of Hogwarts."

"Oh. Shit."

"Indeed."

"What can I say, George? We're outpranked and outclassed yet again."

George growled. "We've got to get back at her for this."

"Oh, we will," Fred said, rubbing his hands together evilly and ignoring the stares that threatened to penetrate his skin, "But damn, George, that is one heck of a fine woman!"


End file.
